


Strawberry Blond

by somber



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rated for cursing, Underage Drinking, kind of summer themed!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somber/pseuds/somber
Summary: The shock of the cold water helps him ignore how his skin burns—the 40 SPF sunscreen can only do so much to prevent physical damage and Mingyu had never before been told that being in love is like slowly catching on fire.He burns, from the outside in and from the inside out, a wick lit at both ends.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 123





	Strawberry Blond

**Author's Note:**

> big shoutout to my dear friend andy @hoesthetic i love u so much u lil bastard thank you for always giving me love and encouragement <33 genuinely dont know where id be without u
> 
> also this is inspired by strawberry blond by mitski so if u wanna read over those lyrics or smth to get a gist for how gyu feels here... id recommend it!

Mingyu is fifteen when he first notices how his chest aches when he looks at his best friend.

It’s not a sudden realization—it’s about as gradual as the tightening of his ribs around his insides, the squeeze of his lungs as he watches Wonwoo laugh. There’s an odd feeling in his esophagus as he continues to stare, stock-still even as the raven-haired boy turns to him and smiles.

They’re a large group, sitting down on three picnic blankets spread out—him, Wonwoo, Soonyoung, Vernon, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Jisoo and the exchange student he’d brought along with him—Junhui. Soonyoung had convinced all of them to play volleyball with him, even Wonwoo, who normally preferred to sit in the shade and spectate rather than play. And perhaps Mingyu had played a part in this, confiscating his kindle to annoy him into joining the rest of them in the glaring sun. They were at the lakeside, after all, Mingyu couldn’t let his best friend wither away in the shade whilst they played and goofed around, doing their best to make Soonyoung dive for every ball they sent over the net.

Soonyoung says something that Mingyu doesn’t hear over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, Wonwoo turning to reply before getting up. His long legs tower in front of Mingyu’s face, and as his eyes follow Wonwoo’s movement, graceful and lithe, he finds himself tender to the touch, everything too much and too little all at once. The sun burns against his back.

Wonwoo extends a hand towards him, staring down at him with a confused expression.

“You coming?”

There’s a bit of chocolate on the edge of his lip, and the beginnings of a sunburn forming on his nose, but it’s _beautiful_ , in an earthly way. In the same way a dandelion in a field of grass, swaying in the breeze, is beautiful—unassuming and delicate, Wonwoo is beautiful. The word echoes in Mingyu’s mind, bouncing off of everything he’d held dear up until that point.

Mingyu ignores the ache, ignores the way his heart races and takes Wonwoo’s hand, pulling himself up as well.

Soonyoung ends up throwing him into the lake, with Wonwoo’s help. They gang up on him at the dock, two pairs of hands on his back that Mingyu is so familiar with, is so helplessly familiar with.

The shock of the cold water helps him ignore how his skin burns—the 40 SPF sunscreen can only do so much to prevent physical damage and Mingyu had never before been told that being in love is like slowly catching on fire.

He burns, from the outside in and from the inside out, a wick lit at both ends.

An hour later, they sit and eat mostly-melted ice cream as the sun starts to hang lower in the sky—late afternoon, and Mingyu was expected home by seven at the latest.

He watches Soonyoung swipe his thumb over Wonwoo’s bottom lip, licking the bit of cream off of it. He watches Soonyoung throw his arm over Wonwoo’s shoulder while talking to Junhui and Vernon, watches them out of the corner of his eye as he himself makes small talk with Seungcheol. The older boy was interested in the same comic books that Mingyu was, so it was easy to speak with him—but he still finds himself distracted. Wonwoo sits on the bench to his left, sharing with Soonyoung and Jun, while Mingyu sits a foot away and yearns.

He tries to focus on Seungcheol and matches his excitement for the newest Marvel movie by a mile and a half, but when Wonwoo moves in his periphery Mingyu’s eyes are immediately on him.

“Want some?” He asks, holding out his ice cream towards Mingyu.

There’s a small smile on his face and Mingyu smiles back as if possessed by some love-sick demon, leaning forward to lick at the top.

“Thanks, hyung.” Mingyu holds out his ice cream for Wonwoo to try as well, the melted mess that it was, laughing when Wonwoo’s nose scrunches in distaste.

“No, I’m good. But thank you, Mingyu,” He says, and Mingyu watches him speak, watches his mouth form the syllables of his name. Despite everything that Wonwoo appears to be, he’s decidedly _warm_ , for Mingyu. “I’m honestly sick of all these sweets.”

“Hey!” Before Mingyu can reply, Soonyoung suddenly interrupts, hitting Wonwoo on the shoulder. “Jeon Wonwoo, you _refused_ to share with me earlier! Am I no longer your best friend? What’s with this preferential treatment?!”

Mingyu bits down on his lip to prevent himself from smiling. A fool, he was, for the way his blood rushes to his head at the knowledge that Wonwoo had refused to share his dessert with anyone but him. He ducks his head to stare at his lap, willing the warmth to subside from his cheeks or at least for the self-satisfied grin that threatened to spill onto his face to go away.

Wonwoo huffs, and Mingyu can tell just by the way that the breath moves past his lips that he’s rolling his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re terrible and eat half of it in one bite every time.”

Lifting his head, Mingyu observes as Soonyoung indeed does eat almost all of his remaining ice cream, Wonwoo patiently holding the cone for him. There’s a soft smile on his face.

It’s not the exact same one that he shows Mingyu. It’s certainly not the same one he blesses Mingyu with when they’re sleeping in the same bed, Mingyu chatting his ear off because Wonwoo had said it helps him sleep.

It’s not the same, but it’s similar enough for him to feel something ugly awaken in his chest.

When he looks away from the pair of best friends, doing his best to keep his smile stuck on his face, a pair of eyes meet his almost immediately. As if they’d been watching him, only him, this entire time.

Mingyu blinks in surprise and Jeonghan smiles, tilting his head and giving him a soft, knowing look.

No one hears the way his throat tightens, and he struggles to swallow under Jeonghan’s gaze. His blood runs cold. There’s something in the way he stares—he _knows_ , and Mingyu doesn’t know how he knows since it’s only been a month or so since Mingyu himself had figured it out, but he _knows_. He knows the way Mingyu looks at his best friend isn’t normal—isn’t okay. And Mingyu’s never found reason to be scared of Jeonghan like Soonyoung is, but now, he understands.

A hand touches his in his lap, stable and cold against his anxiety-ridden, shaky one. When Mingyu looks over at him, Wonwoo frowns, carefully regarding him, most likely taking in the way his lips twitch downward. Kim Mingyu wears his heart on his sleeve and his every emotion on his face.

He heads home a little early after that, hands still shaky around the straps of his backpack, two pairs of eyes burning into the back of his head.

Gradually, carefully, he forgets the whole thing with Jeonghan ever happened—almost a whole month passes before they hang out as a group once more, a warm summer day fading into a chilly evening as the sun sets over the dock behind Jisoo’s house. They’re staying over, most of the group, at least, sans Minghao. The boy had been adopted into their little group rather quickly, both by Junhui and Mingyu himself—his wit and his sense of humour proved to fit in very well with the rest of them.

Minghao leaves around eight, as his parents have a strict curfew.

The group begins to splinter off after they all say their goodbyes in Jisoo’s living room.

Mingyu looks around the room, attempting to find Wonwoo amongst the many bodies lying around. He finds him almost immediately, a controller in his hands and Soonyoung laying besides him.

They laugh, Soonyoung shouting in Wonwoo’s ear and throwing an arm around his waist in his excitement.

Mingyu watches. He watches until there’s an ache inside of him that becomes unbearable oh so quickly, because Wonwoo leans his head onto Soonyoung’s, keeping his eyes trained on the T.V. and there’s a fist in his chest, squeezing with all of its might.

Mingyu watches until he cannot anymore, the music following him as he stands, carefully, gently, making sure not to disturb a single thing in the room, and heads outside.

The sun is already underwater when he sits down on the dock, the last of its rays shining just above the horizon. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back. The air is nicer outside—clear and quiet.

The pain in his chest subsides, bit by bit.

He hates the feeling. He hates how his thoughts take a turn for the worse when he sees them interact. He hates how his feelings isolate him from everyone else in that room—how his blood is spiked with jealousy and anger and hormones that make his stomach feel like an anchor, rushing through his torso straight onto the ground.

He hates how no matter how hard he tries; he can’t bring himself to stop loving Wonwoo. To stop the longing he feels when they meet eyes. To stop the way his skin warms to the touch whenever Wonwoo brushes against him. To stop the horrible, ugly feelings that his body produces when he sees him with his best friend.

Mingyu doesn’t notice Jeonghan until he sits down beside him, too lost in his thoughts to pay proper attention to his surroundings.

“It’s nice out here…quieter.” Jeonghan says.

Mingyu nods, playing off his nervousness by keeping his eyes on the lake. “Yeah, it was loud inside.”

“Loud inside?” Jeonghan smiles in Mingyu’s periphery, bringing up his hand to poke at Mingyu’s temple. “Or loud _inside_?”

He snorts, shaking his head. When he turns to face the other boy, there’s a smile on his face. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

Jeonghan hums in response.

“Y’know, Mingyu,” He stretches, his long arms reaching overhead. “Feelings, emotions—they aren’t inherently bad or good. It’s what you do with them that determines that.”

Mingyu laughs, a nervous staccato. “What do you mean, hyung?”

Jeonghan looks at him finally, meeting his eyes with compassion. “I mean that you should stop beating yourself up over this. Being in love is nothing to be ashamed of.”

A part of Mingyu’s brain stops, and he stares at the older boy silently. It’s fear, the feeling that trickles into his system from behind his ears and his eyes is fear. He’s stuck in it—unable to move, veins full of useless adrenaline.

“Sorry, I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I?”

“Um,” Mingyu responds. “How did you—I mean, not that I am, but how did you… know?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “It’s just, the feeling I get when I see you look at him. I’m never wrong with this kind of stuff.”

“Ah,” He says. “That’s kind of…”

“Cool?”

“…invasive.”

Jeonghan laughs, settling a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder in comfort. “I guess I could see that.”

“It’s really obvious then, huh?”

Jeonghan tilts his head. “What is?”

“That I—” Mingyu fidgets. “Love him… Like him, or something like that.”

“Maybe.” Jeonghan hums. “But you know how Wonwoo is—denser than a brick wall.”

The nerves have left his hands trembling, so he shakes them out, stretching his fingertips in an effort to stabilize them once more.

They sit there in silence until the last rays of the sun disappear, and the night air chases chills up their spines. Jeonghan stands when it’s fully dark, and Mingyu can only barely see the hand he’s stretched out towards him. A few silhouettes stand outside of the house, waving towards them.

“You coming?”

Mingyu takes his hand, pulling himself up.

“Remember what I said, yeah?” Jeonghan says, already beginning to walk towards the two shapes outside. “No love is ever inherently wrong or right.”

Mingyu trails behind the older boy, grumbling. “Whatever the hell that means.”

Barking out a soft laugh, Jeonghan leaves him behind, instead jogging in order to tackle Jisoo and drag him back inside. Jisoo’s laugh carries, echoing brightly in the dark space as Mingyu finally makes it back to the house. The second silhouette he’d seen from the dock smiles at him from where he’s sitting on a patio chair. His black hair shines under the yellow artificial light.

“Had a good time talking to Jeonghan-hyung?”

Mingyu shrugs, sitting in the chair next to him. “I guess. How was Mariokart?”

Wonwoo mimics his shrug. “Fun. Would’ve been more fun with you.”

“Nah, Jun wouldn’t have let me choose Peach. He always gets her before I can.”

“Ah, yes, how could I forget,” Wonwoo chuckles. “You’re an elitist.”

He huffs. “Princess Peach is the best and you know it. I’ve only ever lost while _not_ playing as her.”

“I seem to recall you losing against me last July—”

“What—!” Mingyu frowns, interrupting. “That was last _year_ …and it was your birthday, so it doesn’t count!”

“It so does.”

“It so doesn’t.”

Wonwoo mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _so does’_ , but he speaks up before Mingyu can pettily reply. “What’d you talk about with hyung, by the way? You seemed pretty upset before you went out.”

“Ah,” He blinks at the other. Wonwoo had noticed. The thought of it makes him blush before he realizes that wait, Wonwoo had _noticed_. And hadn’t done a single thing about it. Not that he had to. But Mingyu—if Mingyu had noticed Wonwoo feeling down he would’ve…followed him outside. Wonwoo hadn’t done that. But, Jeonghan had. “Just some stuff. School stuff. I’ve just been kinda stressed lately.”

If he notices Mingyu’s fib, Wonwoo doesn’t let it show at all, nodding along. “Well, if you ever want my advice or anything… I’m here for you, Gyu. Don’t forget, I’m an upperclassman too.”

“Will do,” He smiles. “Thanks, hyung.”

Wonwoo’s eyes flicker over his face quickly, watching for something, but Mingyu just stares back at him.

They end up staying outside just talking until Soonyoung comes and gets them, whining about how it’s already 12 AM and they were _still_ chattering outside. Wonwoo ends up sharing a sleeping bag with Soonyoung on Jisoo’s living room floor, while Mingyu takes the one right next to it. He falls asleep easily, Wonwoo on his right side, back to the floor while Mingyu sleeps on his side, facing him.

He wakes up to fingers softly carding through his bangs and when he opens his eyes, the room is still dark.

The fingers stop.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo whispers. “Did I wake you?”

“Mm-mm,” Mingyu hums, his eyes closing and reopening once more, slowly getting used to the darkness. “You’re…fine, hyung.”

A small smile presents itself to him, most likely because of the way he’s slurring his words. The fingers in his hair resume their ministrations.

The room is completely silent, save for the hum of Jisoo’s electronics, their lights blinking slowly, indicating their standby status.

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu whispers, his eyes closed as he enjoys the older boy’s gentle petting.

“Hm?” Comes the near silent reply.

“What would—What would you do, hyung, if you knew someone liked you, and they’re—you’ve known them for a while and you’re close friends?”

“Like…what would I do if they _confessed_ , or like, do I just know?”

Mingyu hesitates. “I guess… if they confessed. And you’ve been friends with them for a long time.”

“Like…Soonyoung-long-time, or like, us-long-time?”

“More like… us-long-time. I think.”

“Couple years then…” Wonwoo hums in thought. “And do you—or, sorry, do _I_ in this case like them back?”

Mingyu opens his eyes to see Wonwoo looking back at him, his face perfectly neutral. There’s not even a hint of concern or nervousness—the thought that it actually was about them had never crossed Wonwoo’s mind. Mingyu grips the edge of his sleep shirt in his hand, wiping off his sweaty palms.

“No,” He whispers, looking into eyes that he’s watched for years, always wanting them to be trained on himself and only himself. It was typically a difficult task but tonight they stare back at him, blank, void of any emotion as Mingyu himself spills over, his throat tightening. “No, you don’t.”

“Tricky situation.” Is all that Wonwoo says after a heavy pause. “I guess…I’d just let them down easy? Let them know that you still want to be friends and offer some space, or something like that.”

Exactly as Mingyu had expected. “Right… that’s the best way, probably. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Wonwoo smiles, a strange twitch of the lips that Mingyu can’t quite place, removing his hand from his bangs. In the darkness it almost looks foreign to him, sad. “Is that what you were talking about with Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jeonghan’s words echo through his head—the very same ones that had given him some semblance of hope now causing his eyes to tear up. He turns around in his sleeping bag before he finally lets his expression fall, a hot tear running down his cheekbone onto the small pillow.

“Goodnight, Wonwoo-hyung.”

“Goodnight,” Wonwoo responds, and if he notices the thickness in Mingyu’s voice he does not acknowledge it. “Sleep well.”

Mingyu holds it in until Wonwoo’s breathing evens out behind him, before he finally allows himself to go outside and cry, all the way down at the dock again. He’s still drying his tears as the sun begins to rise, the harsh night sky turning into a soft blue as he finally calms down.

It was acceptance, maybe. An acknowledgement that there was nothing here for him. Who was he to Wonwoo, even? Not his best friend, not his boyfriend, not anything in-between. Just a friend, just somebody he’d met in seventh grade debate class.

But to him, Wonwoo was everything. Mingyu watches the sun rise, letting its rays wash over him. He wasn’t going to confess. He could hold these feelings inside of him for as long as it took, as long as he could stay by Wonwoo’s side.

He’ll go along with it, whatever Wonwoo wanted him to be, whatever Wonwoo needed him to be.

But as it turns out, Mingyu hadn’t even needed to properly confess—Wonwoo was already ‘giving him space’ about a week later, avoiding him the best he could.

He even stops coming to the library to read during his fourth period break. Mingyu used to skip his fourth period literature class almost every day, choosing to sit next to Wonwoo as they shared his earbuds. Mingyu would rest his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, eyes closed as the other read, taking care not to jostle Mingyu too much when he flipped the pages.

Mingyu stops skipping class.

At the very least, if Wonwoo wanted him gone—he could let Wonwoo have the library back. It was his favorite place after all, the secluded comfy chairs in the back nestled between bookshelves.

Instead, he sits in his literature class and watches the walls, reads the posters. He wonders which book Wonwoo had chosen to write his midterm about—he’d been planning that for weeks now, after all. He wonders whether Wonwoo had ever finished the anime Mingyu recommended to him—whether he’d cried at the ending just like Mingyu had, sobbing into his pillow. Probably not.

He even stops eating lunch with his friends because Wonwoo was there, and Wonwoo was _there_ but he wouldn’t talk to Mingyu, all short answers and crisp, awkward smiles. He’s quiet once more, like he was when Mingyu had first met him, retreating in on himself because of Mingyu’s presence. It takes him three days to understand that.

Everyone else acts normally around him, even Soonyoung, so Mingyu really, _really_ takes a while to understand. But it was Wonwoo’s friend group first, and he’d only met them because of Wonwoo, so Mingyu backs off. He lets Wonwoo have his friends.

He eats lunch with Seokmin and a freshman named Seungkwan, an unlikely duo that he’d met because he finally stopped skipping his literature class. Both of them were theatre kids—a demographic that Mingyu had previously avoided at all costs, but really now that he knows them, they’re not that bad. They’re just—loud. And they sing a lot. But they’re fun and well-liked around the school, and sometimes Seungkwan makes him laugh so hard he cries.

Like when he split his pants dancing to Girl’s Generation.

Just the thought of his expression brings a smile to Mingyu’s face.

He tries to keep up with his other friends best as he can through text and one-on-one conversations but they slip through his clumsy fingers like butter and really, maybe it’s better like this.

He doesn’t tell Seokmin or Seungkwan about Wonwoo. It’s strange really, because he’d never noticed how much of his daily routine included talking to, with, or about the boy.

But he gets used to it. Mingyu adapts to the life that Wonwoo wants to have—one where Mingyu stays five meters away at all times and sure, maybe he’s exaggerating and maybe Wonwoo never actually told him that, but that’s exactly how he was acting. Like he wanted space. Like Mingyu was too much for him all of a sudden.

_‘Let them down easy_ , _let them know you still want to be friends,’_ his ass.

It just hurts him, to know that his feelings were that appalling to the older boy. To know that he’d meant so little.

But to him, Wonwoo is still the world. Mingyu stares at the framed picture of the both of them at their middle school graduation beside his bed every night, his heart still swelling at the sight of the older boy’s grin. The shame only hits him when he sees Wonwoo in person, Wonwoo avoiding his gaze, or when it’s late at night and Mingyu stares up at his ceiling, knowing that all of this was his fault after all.

It was his fault for falling, plummeting, for flying too close to the sun with wings of golden wax. The sea was rushing up to meet him fast, unyielding.

And so, in one fell swoop, he loses his best friend and the rest of his friend group—with the exceptions of Minghao, Vernon, and Jeonghan, who still made plans every now and then to hang out.

Jeonghan especially had been kind to Mingyu, perhaps because he’d felt some responsibility for the way things had turned out—he gives Mingyu a big hug the first time they hang out, a few weeks after the fact, and graciously lets him cry into his shoulder. He’d even pretended not to feel it, which was quite possibly the kindest thing anyone had done for Mingyu in a while.

It’s lonely. Even with his new friends and some of his old—there’s a large gap in Mingyu’s life and he _knows_ why it’s there, but he does his best to ignore it. If this is who Wonwoo wanted him to be to him… a stranger, a stray. He can be that.

He _can_. He tells himself every day, every time he catches a glimpse of Wonwoo in the hallway with Soonyoung or Seungcheol or Junhui, smiling and nodding at their words.

He tells himself that he _can_ , he can, he can, he _can_ , over and over again, until one night he drinks too much at some senior party Seokmin had invited him to and suddenly he can’t anymore.

His phone is in his hand as he sits outside on the steps to the patio, his messages open on Wonwoo’s chat. The messages swim in his vision, but he knows them, has read over them a million times. There, encased in a grey bubble, Wonwoo had written:

_Sorry, I can’t. I have a ton of calc homework._

He’d written back. _Okay hyung!_ _Lmk when u can hang then?? I miss u_

No answer. Not even a notification letting him know Wonwoo had seen it—his message still said _delivered_ under it, just as it was a month ago.

A drop of water hits his phone screen. Perhaps if he were just a little bit drunker, he’d look up towards the dark sky, wondering whether it was going to start raining soon. But he isn’t, and the tears just keep coming even when he wipes them off using his sweatshirt—Wonwoo’s sweatshirt actually. The one Wonwoo had let him borrow and never asked for back and now Mingyu wears it when he wants to feel safe.

It only protects him from the outside, though. It does nothing as Mingyu crumbles to pieces from the inside out, fire burning in his chest as he hiccups.

The next thing he knows he has his phone pressed to his ear, hearing it ring on the other side. Maybe he’s looking for more heartbreak. Something to make him finally hit the ocean, turning into fish food. Maybe he’s looking for something to hold himself together.

Either way, it was a stupid idea.

“Hello?” A voice rings out from the receiver.

It’s too high to be Wonwoo’s, but his addled mind doesn’t even notice, too focused on keeping his crying to a minimum. “If I stop liking you, can we be friends again?”

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence on the other side, before some kind of rustling noise. “You might want to listen to this.”

Another second of silence, before a deep voice speaks. “Hello?”

“Hyung,” Mingyu hiccups into his phone. “I promise I’ll stop liking you—can we be friends again? I promise I’ll stop, I’ll do any—”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo inhales through his teeth, an annoyed sound. “Are you drunk?”

“A-A little,” He manages to say, before something in him finally snaps and he sobs, burying his head into his knees, all alone outside in the dark but there’s something about Wonwoo’s voice that immediately makes him feel safe, even under these circumstances.

“Where—”

“I promise, I promise I’ll stop, hyung.” Mingyu says in between shuddering breaths, trying to calm himself down. “I won’t love you anymore, just please…don’t ignore me anymore.”

He sniffs loudly, hearing strange noises from Wonwoo’s side even over his sobs. “It hurts, Wonwoo. It hurts so much.”

Wonwoo curses. “Mingyu, listen to me, where are you?”

Obedient, Mingyu raises his head from his knees as the world sways. He looks around, at the house practically shaking with loud bass behind him, at the long stretch of grass ahead of him.

“I-I don’t know,” He says, truthfully.

“What?!” There’s a rattling sound of some sort from the other end of the line. ‘ _Keys, maybe, or whatever, who cares,’_ Mingyu’s inebriated mind tells him. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know.” He sniffles, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of Wonwoo’s sweatshirt. “Seok drove us here and—”

Suddenly, the phone is taken out of his grip and Mingyu panics, thinking he must have dropped it. But when he looks down, it’s not on the ground.

At the sound of Seungkwan’s voice, Mingyu looks up and a-ha! There it was—his phone, in Seungkwan’s hand. He reaches towards it, but something about the movement makes him dizzy. He flops backwards into the grass instead with an ‘ _oof_ ’.

Seungkwan watches the entire thing before shaking his head, half-amused, half-worried. “You are so fucked up right now, man.”

Mingyu whines in protest, a slight sense of nausea hitting him. Probably not a great sign, but Mingyu ignores it anyway in favor of trying to very, very slowly get his phone back.

After trying a few times and realizing his phone was actually further out of his reach than he’d originally thought, Mingyu gives up, letting his arm flop back next to his body. Instead, he listens to Seungkwan give directions over the phone and accepts the glass of water that Seokmin pushes into his hand—which is somewhat confusing because Mingyu doesn’t remember the back door ever opening or closing behind him. He ignores his confusion, instead reaching out for Seokmin, who lets Mingyu hold his hand and put his head in his lap without complaint.

Seokmin begins to pet his hair softly, like Wonwoo always did, fingers gently sifting through his bangs. Something about it makes him so, so sleepy. So safe.

Before he completely drops off, he remembers something very important.

“Tell him,” Mingyu mumbles. “Tell him I won’t love him anymore.”

There’s no answer.

“ _Seok,_ ” He insists, trying to raise his voice as best as he can with his eyes already closed, the world spinning violently around him. “Tell him, please.”

“Okay, Gyu.” A soft, deep voice responds. “I’ll tell him.”

It doesn’t sound like Seokmin but Mingyu doesn’t really care, slipping away into unconsciousness as his head is moved from one lap to another.

That’s the last thing Mingyu finds he remembers as he wakes up in a bed that is not his. He doesn’t have much time to linger on the memories, though, because within seconds his stomach compresses brutally and Mingyu’s out of bed faster than he’d ever been before, running faster than he thought he could to the bathroom.

It only hits him once he’d successfully emptied his guts into the toilet and flushed, laying face-down on the floor—this was Wonwoo’s house. That’s how he’d known where the bathroom was.

“Fuck,” He says softly, putting his warm face directly onto the cold tiles. It helped, a little.

Quiet footsteps pattered behind him.

“That bad, huh?”

Even though he barely has the strength to, he manages to maneuver himself to sit instead, looking up at the owner of the voice he’d missed so much. There’s so much to say—Wonwoo’s dark circles are more prominent than ever and his smile is wry, sad, and Mingyu’s mind races with all the things—everything he’d wanted to say for the past month and a half.

“It hurts,” He says instead.

Wonwoo stares at him and Mingyu stares back, knowing that Wonwoo understood that he wasn’t just talking about the hangover. Mingyu blinks up at him, up at his misery barely disguised as something else.

“I know,” Wonwoo sighs, crumbling down to sit in front of him, much like Mingyu had been sitting last night, his knees tucked into his chest. “I know, Mingyu. And it’s my fault.”

Mingyu shakes his head, slowly, so as to not make himself even more nauseous than he already is. “It’s mine. I’m the one who…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“It’s _not_ your fault.” Wonwoo frowns, reaching out with a hand to brush a few strands of his hair back into place. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” Mingyu replies, offended on his behalf. “You’re the farthest thing from stupid, hyung.”

“I wish I could agree.” Wonwoo sighs, before standing and reaching a hand towards Mingyu. Mingyu’s eyes follow the movement, his long legs and elegant hand towering over him. “But I’m very much stupid. I’ve _been_ stupid. Come, let’s get you some water and breakfast.”

Still frowning at Wonwoo’s self-admonishing, Mingyu takes his hand.

He ends up seated in the kitchen while Wonwoo makes hangover soup. He’d tried to offer his services, but even standing still proved to be a task.

Concerned, Wonwoo’s eyebrows pinch together when he groans lightly, doing his best to keep the nausea at bay.

“I knew it, alcohol poisoning.”

“Probably,” Mingyu whimpers, cursing his past self for choosing to do shots. “Did you—Did you come and get me last night? What about your parents?”

“Of course I did, how else would you be here?” Wonwoo laughs, before returning to his cutting board and continuing to julienne a spring onion. “And they’re out of town for the long weekend, I was supposed to be staying with Soonyoung.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” And then it hits him—the first voice on the phone yesterday. That had been Soonyoung—He’d told Soonyoung… An involuntary groan escapes him, making him bury his head in his hands. “Oh no.”

“Remembered something from last night?” Wonwoo’s voice is light, careful.

“I talked to Soonyoung on the phone—I said—” Another pained moan leaves his body.

“Well, to be fair, you weren’t talking so much as mumbling and crying.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” Wonwoo’s smiling, Mingyu can tell by the way he talks. He hesitates. “But it was cute.”

Cute.

It’s not the first time Wonwoo’s called him that, but it might as well be, for the way his heart races in his chest and his hands begin to tremble. First, due to the elation, and then, the heart-crushing guilt, for the way he felt. Even after he’d promised—and presumably that’s why Wonwoo had agreed to accept him back into his life, if this was even _that_ and well, the more he thinks about it the more he confuses himself.

But one thing’s for sure.

He couldn’t just stop loving Wonwoo—he’d lied. He’d lied out of desperation and now Wonwoo would find him even more despicable than before. But he could pretend. He could pretend really well! He’d wanted to be an actor when he was young, after all, he’s already spent all these years pretending—what’s a few more? Hell, what’s forever?

Shame licks up his spine anyway, even as he tries to convince himself.

“Alright, I don’t really know how good it’ll taste but—eat up?”

Wonwoo places a bowl of soup in front of him, still steaming hot, and Mingyu stares at it. It smells so good but he’s—he’s undeserving. He couldn’t accept Wonwoo’s kindness under this guise of not liking him anymore.

Something drips into the soup, and it takes Mingyu a second to process that it came from him.

“I can’t.” Mingyu sniffs. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“What’s wrong, Gyu?”

Wonwoo speaks softly, gently, as if he were tenderly holding Mingyu’s very soul in the lilts and curves of his words.

“I lied to you, yesterday.” The admission bursts out of his mouth before he can think about holding it back.

Wonwoo frowns, suddenly looking small. “Eat first. We can talk about this after.”

“No, I can’t just—I can’t not like…love you. I can pretend, hyung, you’d never even know but I—I like you so much.” He buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, but I don’t want you to forgive me because of a lie. I’ve always liked you, there’s no _before_ to go back to.”

Silence. He keeps his head buried in darkness.

“Mingyu… I don’t know how on Earth you’ve managed to convince yourself that this is your fault.” Wonwoo sighs. “I told you before, I was stupid. I—made some assumptions I shouldn’t have. There’s nothing to forgive you for.”

Mingyu raises his head, staring at the older boy in confusion. This was not how he’d thought his confession would go.

“Now please eat because you look like you’re about to keel over and die.”

“But—”

“We’ll talk after,” Wonwoo promises, nudging the bowl closer to Mingyu. “Promise.”

Mingyu listens for once, digging into the soup. Wonwoo watches him as he eats, a small smile spread across his lips. It doesn’t take long for him to finish, and he even feels decent enough afterwards to brush his teeth alongside Wonwoo, finding the toothbrush that he’d used last time he’d slept over was still in Wonwoo’s toothbrush holder.

It made some part of him jump for joy—the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, Wonwoo hadn’t wanted him to stay away forever.

He winds up being pulled along back into bed by Wonwoo, laying on his right side beside him. Softly carding his fingers through Mingyu’s unkempt hair, he speaks.

“Do you remember the time where we slept all slept over at Jisoo hyung’s?”

Mingyu nods.

“And I woke you up in the middle of the night? By accident?”

Another nod.

“I woke you… on purpose.”

Mingyu tilts his head, frowning as Wonwoo stops petting him. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to kiss you. And didn’t trust myself not to while you were asleep.”

He blinks. “What?”

“And then you woke up and you said all that stuff about knowing someone likes you—I thought you knew—”

“Wait. What?”

“So I thought I got rejected and I was embarrassed so I didn’t want to see you; and I thought it would just be a week and I’d get over it but then you—left, because I was horrible to you.”

“Hyung, seriously, wait, hold on—”

“And I thought. You seemed happier…” Wonwoo sighs. “Without me.”

“What— _Happier?!”_ Mingyu scoffs at the notion. “I was goddamn _miserable_ , all the time.”

The older boy blinks. “But you had your new friends, and stuff.”

“Wonwoo-hyung, you make me want to kill myself sometimes.”

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo sputters. “I know, I didn’t realize how stupid I was until it was too late.”

“It’s okay,” Mingyu simpers, a small smile making itself known on his face. “I was stupid too. That whole crush thing was a stupid thing to ask you.”

“I thought you meant me and I freaked out. Jeonghan almost throttled me when I told him about that—I think I know why now.”

“…wait, holy shit.” Mingyu gasps, his mouth falling open. “It just hit me.”

“The nausea came back? Do you need to go to the…” Wonwoo moves to get up, before being tugged back down onto the bed.

“No, you—you _like_ me. You freaked out because you _like_ me!” He laughs, a joyous little sound that echoes around the small room. It’s almost as if a physical weight had been lifted off of him, the shame that had flared up his spine extinguished almost completely.

Watching the younger boy in amusement, Wonwoo pats him on the shoulder.

“No, you don’t understand—I was so happy just liking you alone,” Mingyu insists. “I was so okay with just—being whatever you would take me as.”

“ _Whatever I’ll take you as?!”_ Wonwoo repeats incredulously. He raises a sole eyebrow.

“Not like that, perv.” Mingyu shoves at his chest. “Just like—best friend, friend, acquaintance, stranger, arch-enemy…”

“Arch-enemy it is, then.” Wonwoo announces, before breaking his serious charade to laugh at the upset puppy-dog look spreading across Mingyu’s face.

“Take it back.” Mingyu pouts.

“I’m sorry,” He reaches out a hand, softly putting his palm against Mingyu’s cheek. “You’re just so cute sometimes.”

Mingyu grins. “You too, hyung. You really rushed over last night, huh?”

“Don’t remind me of it,” Wonwoo groans. “Your friend is so terrible at giving directions.”

“I was absolutely plastered, and even I could tell they were nonsense,” He says, smiling as Wonwoo laughs at his admission.

Mingyu takes advantage of the silence that follows in order to throw an arm over Wonwoo’s waist, snuggling into him, his face pressed into his slender neck. An outcome he’d never even expected—one he’d never even dared to hope for—it’s almost overwhelming, the way his chest seems to light up into fireworks.

“Say, ‘Gyu,” Wonwoo murmurs into his ear, laughing when he involuntarily shivers. “You think there’s room for one more thing on that list of things I can have you as?”

Mingyu hums. “Like what?”

“Like…boyfriend, maybe?”

Mingyu blinks at the word before drawing back to look the older boy directly in the eyes. “Are you serious? Like, now?”

“Not now,” Wonwoo replies, smiling at Mingyu’s dumbfounded expression. “But when we’re ready for it?”

Nodding, Mingyu makes himself comfortable once more in his best friend’s arms. And this time, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t Wonwoo’s best friend. This time, it didn’t matter that Soonyoung always monopolized his attention. Mingyu had something to look forward to—something that wasn’t just Wonwoo or just Mingyu, they had something _together_. They still had a lot of things to talk over, but Mingyu finds himself smiling into Wonwoo’s soft skin, excited for once instead of anxious.

“I’d like that. A lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is loosely based off of my own experiences but i am a coward so i never confessed <3 alas i will never have this kind of an end ANYWAY hope u enjoyed smooches all of u love u have a good night im so tired


End file.
